Pat McQuillan, my good friend of 57 years, was a mixed bag of goods.  Fiercely athletic and possessing an Irishman's competitive flame, yet desperately seeking spiritual enlightenment; openly jovial and embracing of others in social occasions while, at the same time, much preferring to be alone under a reading lamp absorbing Camus and Sartre; drinking Manhattans and carousing with the best of them at the local bar, yet yearning to hone his leadership skills at a summer camp for impoverished Oakland youth. This is the Pat I came to admire and enjoy, the guy who could make my eyes water with hysterical laughter.  This is the Pat I will miss terribly for the remainder of my days.  God bless Janie and the McQuillan family always.   -Peter  Anderson

    I sat down and felt some Pat McQuillan notes flow through my fingers on my baby grand piano last night. I started with a jazzy ii-V-I progression in E flat and, with a twist of humor, slid into a Dies Irai melody that climbed up instead of down. A cheery mass of the dead. I mumbled the Latin words like Joe McGuckin would have. Pat and I often countered each other's sense of humor by imitating McGucks and Floyd L Begin, the bishop of Oakland that he and I were going to work for at one point.
     Then I just went into a straight 12 bar blues and cried a little knowing our President and friend had passed.
     I wrestled him once in Cov-pire wrestling; he almost killed me. Peace brother, peace.   --Bill Stokes

     I am reminded how we are like sculptors and artists who seek to carve out beautiful footprints along the cave routes of our lives…hoping that the seeds we plant along the way result in a harvest of memories and impact that truly made a difference.  Hearing of Pat’s death pierces my own veils of denial and leaves me a little empty deep down to see what holes in my own life I am drawn to fulfill that I may have left uncovered.  This is the sadness and the gift of life’s journey. There is a genuine appreciation and joy in having known Pat and feeling deeply his moving on.
     As an outsider from Utah, Pat was one of those who deeply welcomed me and offered a bridge of friendship…with little luggage or conditions.  I found him “real” and accepting as his laughter and music.  Peter in his beautiful pose, again, shared so well his gift of recollections on the person Pat is…..I won’t go on.
    My tears are more sweet than bitter. I take the gifts he shared and know that he made a beautiful difference in my life and many others.  I also know, that after the rainy tears, the  parched moments of missing, the cracked earth that seems too dried up, there is a rising Son that allows the harvest in each of us to blossom fully as we all remember and thank God for experiencing  this great man, this fun-loving warrior of life….and our dear friend.  -Rudi Leonardi

     Having been part of the Kingsman trio with Pat and Chuck Lathrop (later a quartet when Earl Talbot played the bass with us)...I have a few memories:
    Pat wrote and composed a lot of his own songs that we performed.  I still remember some of the lines STOP, TURN YOUR LIVES AROUND, AND LOOK FOR THE GOOD THINGS TO BE FOUND...HALT, THEY'RE ALL THERE. YOU JUST HAVE TO LOOK AND YOU JUST HAVE TO CARE.  (I think that's how it went.)
     I also remember Pat fuming about Pop Rock's viewpoint about poetry that poetry should be an expression of an experience, not a protest about something.  Pop Rock was adamant about that.  So was Pat about his viewpoint!  -Randy Gorringe

     I just wanted to say how moved I am by hearing the outpouring of feelings for Pat and what he meant to so many of us. He was a leader and a friend to so many of us. He was also a fierce defender of our class when some of our profs tried to overwork us like when Father Chocol tried to have us read half of Leisure: the Basis of Culture in a very short time since the book order came in late. Pat argued him down, probably saying that this assignment was the antithesis of a leisurely approach.
     Whether there's an afterlife or not, Pat will definitely live on in the hearts and minds of those who knew and loved him. He is a part of us as we were a part of him. How theological and existential is that! God bless, my brothers.  -Joe Barile